The Bloody Mary Murder Files
by SasuSakuisforalways
Summary: Sequel to Seeing Black. Set two hundred years later at present day, the Bloody Mary Murder Case is reminiscent of Ciel and Sebastian's first days as the Queen's Watchdog. During the 2012 London Olympics, prominent athletes begin to go missing, their bodies returning to the games in an unusual manner. Nicknamed "Bloody Mary," the killer has a strange secret.
1. Chapter 1

Here it is: the sequel to _Seeing Black, The Bloody Mary Murder Files._

__I do not own, nor claim to own Black Butler.

I would like to give a quick shout-out to my wonderful readers.

This sequel is dedicated to promocat, who has been with me since the beginning and stayed with me till the very end.

Thanks also to Paxloria, SeafoamMist, Lieutenant of the BVB Army and all the others who left me reviews and with praise, tips, and motivational messages.

Without further ado...

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__The Bloody Mary Murder Files: Chapter 1

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Bored out of his mind, the Earl Phantomhive lazily picked up a sleek, black remote, flipping through hundreds of channels absentmindedly, before stopping on the local news station, which he tuned out of quickly.

As luck would have it, the demon boy's lover/butler/secretary/whatever-the-heck-he-was-now had left not an hour later to go run errands in the city.

Being the C.E.O. of Phuntom Toys didn't really require too much effort (though inventing more excuses for his never-aging appearance and occasionally coming up a new alias provided some entertainment), and, because Sebastian spent so much of his time managing various subdivisions of the company, Ciel often found himself slouching in a lavish, leather armchair in front of the seventy-two inch, plasma screen television in the , watching badly-acted soap operas and dull, predictable, action series, loaded with pointless violence and little logic.

Ciel decided that he would—deliberately—hire an additional ten people to take over some of the older demon's work…because, quite frankly, the Phantomhive Earl—and this was something he would never willingly or openly admit—enjoyed that man's company _far_ more than he thought he ought to; as the years passed, Ciel became progressively more addicted to the little time they spent together, particularly the night hours.

But that caused Ciel (even after two hundred years) to blush profusely, so he hastily pushed it to the back of his mind, bringing forth the current business of remodeling the Phantomhive manor.

This included adding several hundred—extremely expensive, mind you—custom hybrid, rose bushes to the grounds, wallpapering and painting every room, refinishing the furniture, restoring the many paintings, and updating all the technology…all which Sebastian—or Ciel himself, really—was capable of taking care of, single-handedly… but that was entirely unnecessary considering the ridiculously extravagant fortune that had accumulated over two centuries.

The news that night consisted of various clips from the London Olympics, all of which Ciel smirked at, smugly, his perfect lips twisting up at one corner.

No matter how impressive the athletes might have appeared to a human, Ciel, even being a younger and weaker demon, was fully capable of performing any of the activities with several times the speed, skill, and strength. Gymnastics was the only sport that the Earl Phantomhive held a shred of respect for, due to the lithe, flexible bodies of both the males and females.

Even from across the estate, Ciel noted the low scrape of the front door against the door frame; Sebastian was home.

With his augmented hearing, the demon boy could pick out the individual steps his butler took, calculating the man's current distance from him. This had become a game of Ciel's—measuring distance using sound alone. The earl had become quite good at it too.

_One hundred and seventy-seven meters, nine and six thirteenths centimeters, _Ciel figured, staring blankly at the television screen in front of him. With one hand, the earl flicked the power switch to the device, retrieving his glass of pinot noir with the other.

_Twenty-one meters, two and sixteen thirty-oneths centimeters._

"Bocchan." At the end of a long, unproductive day, the sultry voice of Sebastian Michaelis welcomed Ciel to Hell, casting open a pair of gnarled, wrought-iron gates to reveal the brimming, treacherous sea of sensual flames.  
"Sebastian."

"Every time I come home, I find you in front of the television," the older demon rolled his eyes, stealing away the remote with a skillful hand.

"There's nothing else to do, and I'm bored," the Phantomhive complained.

"You could get a hobby."

"Such as what?"

The older demon chuckled, amusement playing across his features. "All that time in front of a screen, and you don't even bother to watch the news, Bocchan? Shame, shame…"

"What are you talking about," the younger sneered, causing his butler to raise one perfect eyebrow.

"Oh? I thought that London's high crime rate would certainly satisfy my master's need for excitement. My lord is the Queen's watchdog, after all—"

"Was," the boy corrected bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And there's nothing exciting about investigations anymore," Ciel sighed heavily, combing through his blue-black hair with one soft, petite hand. "With the government and judicial system and technology… It's not worth my time."

Finishing off the bitter alcohol, the Earl replaced his glass on a conveniently placed, ornately carved, side table, turning back to the grinning butler.

"And there is a deficiency of…interesting cases," the Phantomhive added, growing gradually more suspicious at the predatory glint in his (and by no means did Ciel mean anything romantic by this possessive; that would be absurd!) Butler's crimson, cat-like eyes.

Still sporting a wide smirk, his Butler followed up with, in a teasing manner: "Of all the deadly sins, Bocchan, couldn't you have picked one more befitting than sloth?"

"Do you mean to say you'd rather I was a glutton?" The smaller huffed, irritably,

Sebastian continued on his merry way with: "Gluttony is said to be more deadly than sloth, My Lord."

Audibly and visibly exasperated, the Earl Phantomhive sank back into his chair, frowning at the older. "I've had enough of this petty match."

"How regretful that My Lord does not even keep up with world news—"

"Just get on with the bloody point, Sebastian!"

"Such profanity—"

"God damn it, Sebastian! Tell me what you bloody wanted to say!" The boy growled and then, in a lower tone added: "Two hundred years has rotted your etiquette as well."

Wearing an absolutely feral (and quite libidinous) expression, the raven-haired man raised one hand to his smirking lips and freed it of a flawlessly white glove, repeating the action with the opposite so that two sets of coal lacquered nails met the boy's gaze.

"Mmm, I don't think I should. It's nice to know the Earl has not become completely apathetic," the older demon justified, discarding his gloves beside Ciel's empty wineglass on the side table.

"Sebastian, that's an or-mph—" Whatever train of thought the Phantomhive had considered boarding, it was now racing down the tracks in the opposite direction, leaving Ciel behind to melt into the pair of sinfully-versed, lust-laced lips that pressed to his and rendered the piqued Earl nearly incoherent every time.

Damn that man.

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Readers are loved

Reviews are welcome ;)

~Sophia.


	2. Chapter 2

Sooo... Long time no update... I've been adjusting to life as of late, so this chapter is a bit late... Okay, so a lot of you probably thought I just gave it up altogether.

Well, here it is.

I need more coffee.

If anyone seriously thinks I am Yana Toboso, they'd have to be out of their mind. I will never be that good of an artist. So there. Disclaimers, alright.

God. This bed is way to comfortable.

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"Bloody Mary?" The earl raised his eyes tentatively, staring up into the pool of garnet, obsidian, and lust.

"At least this is what the media is calling our killer," the older demon smirked, drawing out a disbelieving scowl from the boy. "As fate would have it, an old acquaintance has some more information for you if you're interested," Sebastian offered, that oh-so-smug expression plastered to his face; Ciel _was _interested, and raven haired man knew it.

The smaller sighed, rolling his eyes and lacing his long fingers together as he conformed his slim figure to the back of the dining room chair.

"My Lord must admit that this proposal sounds appealing," the butler prompted in the silky voice he had specially tailored for purposes of a different nature.

Of course, Ciel could not hope to deny that simple statement, not so much for the case itself at that point, but for the set of rose-red irises that threatened to drown him without the use of water—for the scent of cinnamon and pine and something deliciously sweet that met his palate as their breaths mingled and tongues battled—for the texture, finer than silk, that grazed the boy's flushed cheeks when Sebastian neglected to cut his coal-black locks for extended periods of time. No, denial was pointless and unappetizing whenever that man was concerned.

'Damn that man,' would become Ciel's new mantra.

"Fine," the younger agreed, grudgingly as Sebastian strode arrogantly back into the room, tray in hand. "I need something to do, after all." The older grinned in victory, sliding the silver dish onto the table in front of his master and lifting the lid to reveal a single slice of perfectly-prepared cheesecake, garnished with strawberry preserves (made by Sebastian himself) and leaves of fresh mint, picked from the garden only moments before.

"Why you continue to eat food even to this day is beyond me," Sebastian articulated, teasingly.

Casting the man a hastily-formed and hardly effective glare, Ciel turned back to his desert, lifting the dainty fork to his lips. "I enjoy the taste of food," the latter returned, sharply. "It makes me no less of a demon, so keep your insufferable lips shut and deal with it."

"Insufferable?" Not a second's time elapsed before the butler's lips pressed to his and a demanding tongue swiped the younger's bottom lip.

Sebastian's breath ghosted across his tongue. "Would My Lord care for a dictionary?"

"Oh shut up," Ciel retorted as the older swept him out of the chair and up the stairs.

Abandoned desert would rest on the table until morning, when Sebastian would tidy the house, his lover still asleep thanks to custom design black-out curtains that enveloped every window in the house.

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"It's been a while, Ciel." The earl blinked once, then twice, still not trusting his vision when a certain questionable, Chinese man continued appearing in his view. Dressed in a casual blue suit with his trademark accessory, a beautiful young Chinese girl, draped suggestively across his lap, Lau reclined in the arm-chair, grinning broadly.

"Lau?"

"Oh yes. I believe that was one of my first aliases. I've gone through a lot of them since, you see?" The demon boy scowled inwardly as the girl in Lau's lap adjusted herself so that one of Lau's hands came to a rest at the junction of her hip and leg.

"Always avoiding the real question," Ciel grumbled as Sebastian waltzed in, a bottle of vodka—yes, vodka for god's sake! That crap isn't even sweet—in hand.

"And what would that be," Lau managed to choke out from in between shots of the liquor.

"How are you still alive?"

"I could ask the same of yourself, Ciel," the man replied stoically.

"Just answer the bloody question, will you!" Ciel snapped back, slamming his glass onto the table in front of him.

Lau appeared to ponder the situation for a moment, letting his gaze wander around the room absentmindedly as he ran a hand up and down the girl's leg—much to Ciel's horror and disgust—and downed more of the intoxicating liquid.

"Why don't you take a stab at it, Earl," the oriental man decided, loosening his crimson tie.

A frown appeared on the young demon's lips, causing Sebastian to chuckle lightly. This gesture, Ciel met with a murderous glance in the general direction of his butler and a firm clearing of the throat.

"If you won't tell me, then we should simply get on with business." the boy huffed, visibly irritated.

"You're interested in Bloody Mary, correct?" The shady informant confirmed.

"Yes, that's correct. What do you know of this killer?"

Lau swirled the clear liquid in his glass, a twisted smirk stretching over his handsome lips.

"Does my Lord never watch the news?"

"Lau," the boy warned in a threatening tone. "I simply do not have time to babysit the human world."

"I see. Well, I'll tell you what I know.

"Exactly one hour after the completion of the Olympic opening ceremonies, a Russian gymnast went missing. After ten hours of searching, a teammate found her mutilated body, hung by the wrists in the bathroom of the girl's hotel room—"

"Sounds like an ordinary day in Britain," Ciel sighed replacing his empty glass on the table.

Lau frowned. "You didn't let me finish." The demon boy made a face, indicating that Lau should continue.

"Two days later, the girl's teammate turned up dead on the floor of her bathroom. Her body was discovered by an American basketball player she'd met the night before in a club.

"Another two days, and the American's body was discovered in a similar state, this time by a French cyclist, who died in his bathroom two days after that.

"All had their wrists bound and throats slit."

"So someone hired a hitman," the boy muttered, sending a glance towards Sebastian, asking the older to refill his glass.

"At first that's what I thought," Lau admitted, "but as I investigated, the likelihood only continued decreasing."

Ciel raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It seems the media has named our killer most appropriately. You see, the police found no evidence of a struggle in any of the hotel rooms. The only evidence of any sort is a bloody handprint on the mirror."

Lau leaned forward and allowed his eyelid to slip open.

There, amongst oriental skin and soft, black hair rested a brilliant pair of yellow-green eyes, the color which belonged to only one sort of being.

After the initial shock, a smirk graced the demon boy's lips. "I suspected as much," the latter mused.

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Thoughts? Ideas? Praise (yeah right...)? Criticism?

Yours

~Sophia


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